Roger grunted, and Ernest, with a grin, left him in peace. It was an hour later when Roger, having forgotten about the child, but wanting to ask Ernest a question, made his way to the observation platform. It was so exceedingly dusty that Ernest and his little friend had it to themselves.
"Here she is, little Felicia!" cried Ernest. "And here he is, big Roger!"
The little girl looked up at Roger. He returned the look with a surprised interest. He did not know much about little girls, but it seemed to him that she must be rather unusual. She had large brown eyes of astounding depth and softness. She was tall for her seven years, tall and graceful, in a short soiled blue gingham dress, and socks wrinkling down on stubby Oxford ties. Her hair was brown, curly and short. There were lovely curves in her scarlet drooping lips, and a fine arch in her head, above the ears.
She made a little curtsey and shook hands in the limp manner of childhood. Roger smiled at her, and sat down.
"Ernest, what was the size of the glass you and Dr. Austin were finally able to get?"
"Eight by twelve. Felicia, tell Mr. Moore where you're going."
"Out to live with Charley and Dick," said the child obediently.
"Have they been there long?" asked Roger, lighting his pipe.
"Ever since Mother died. They left me with Aunt May. But now I'm going out to be with Charley. Dear, dearest Charley, that's what Aunt May says."
"Charley must be your favorite brother," commented Roger, a trifle absentmindedly as he tried to define the disconcerting attraction Felicia had for him.